


Cravin’ Edge

by Attalander



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, CE is Putting Up With It, Collars, Grog is Dumb, Humor, M/M, Power Bottom, Rough Sex, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28243218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander
Summary: Grog’s new sword is fantastic. It looks badass  and steals the strength of his enemies!Yet when he sleeps, all that power goes away... where does it go? And why does Grog keep waking up feeling like he had wet dream he can’t remember?TL;DR: Grog has psychic dream-sex with Craven Edge the power twink.
Relationships: Craven Edge/Grog Strongjaw
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Cravin’ Edge

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this entirely on the _fantastic_ CR/Hamilton mashup: [ Vox Machina: An Exandrian Musical](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL39vwIwCtLi3l4J6IMV6rS2HaLCujNzRT). Specifically their version of [ “Say No To This”.](https://youtu.be/evKgDlnwzTY) It’s Craven Edge seducing Grog (with power), and it’s sexy as hell.
> 
> Just go listen to the whole musical (it covers the Chroma Conclave arc). The singing, writing and song choices are top notch, plus practically every voice is swoon-worthy. I never realized just how gay I could be for Raishan.

Grog was having a good day. His muscles tingled with the familiar ache of a good fight, his stomach was full of delicious food and his head was wonderfully swimmy from large amounts of booze. Best of all, his new sword was _fantastic_ , filling his blood with power even as it had devoured his foe’s. All in all, the Goliath went to bed in his room at Greyskull Keep with a sense of great satisfaction.

When he awoke, however, he was somewhere quite different. The bed beneath him was swathed in sleek black silk and every wall was draped in heavy black curtains. Even the floor was polished onyx, and although there was no sign of a light source the whole place was infused with a pale, silvery glow.

“Uh...” Grog said, looking around. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, body as naked as when he’d fallen asleep. “What?”

“Welcome, Master.” The soft, sibilant voice was familiar, although the figure it came from wasn’t, and certainly hadn’t been there a second before.

A young human man with soft, feminine features knelt on the floor in front of Grog, skin pale and long hair jet-black. He was wearing nothing but a few strips of gray cloth, wrapped around his shoulders and hips in a loose, haphazard way that left very little to the imagination, plus a steel collar around his neck with a chain that Grog realized led right to his own hand. The only spot of color in the whole room came from the youth’s eyes, which glowed crimson in the faint light as he smiled.

“Master?” The Goliath scratched his head in confusion. “Do I know you from someplace? You sound like Bacon.”

“Craven. Edge.” The youth hissed through clenched teeth, but quickly smoothed his features into something more submissive and alluring. It was the kind of look Grog was used to getting from well-paid ladies of the evening, not (admittedly pretty) young men with bizarre fashion sense. “Yes, Master, it is I.”

“Um, aren’t you, you know...” Grog mimed grabbing a weapon and swinging it, as the chain rattled in his hand. “A sword?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” Craven Edge purred, looking up at him through long lashes. Grog might be dense about some things, but he knew when he was getting hit on.

“Female?” Grog asked hopefully. “Nice, big titties?”

“No.” The sword-man said, a flicker of annoyance passing over his face again. “This will suffice, will it not?”

He arched his back, stroking fingers through his own shining black hair. Honestly, if not for the flat chest and the bulge between his legs, he was really good looking... ok, he was good looking anyway, _really_ good-looking. Like “question your taco over sausage preference” sort of hot. He actually looked kind of like Vax, which was something to think about later.

Right now, though, Grog was paying far more attention to the way the young man crawled the short distance between them, hips swaying seductively. When he reached the Goliath, he pressed a kiss to the head of Grog’s bare cock.

“Let me please you, sir,” Craven Edge purred, licking the shaft. “Such a strong warrior as you are... truly, with me by your side you can have whatever you desire. Whatever pleasures you seek, I can grant you...”

Grog was a simple man. He’d never turned down a blowjob in his life and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Right,” the barbarian said, spreading his knees to give the strange being better access. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you, sir,” the handsome youth said, before taking the tip of Grog’s cock in his mouth and starting to suck.

 _Damn!_ The guy might be an amazing sword, but he was just as good at sucking dick as we was at killing things. Grog’s cock was hard in record time as that clever tongue and perfect mouth teased him in _just_ the right way. It was like Craven Edge could read his mind, every touch precisely what the barbarian wanted. Grog wondered what his throat would feel like... but no, the goliath was well-hung even for one of his own massive kind, and most professionals had trouble deepthroating him.

Yet the second the thought came into Grog’s head, the youth swallowed him down like it was nothing. The barbarian cried out in pleasure at the sudden, delicious tightness, slick heat enveloping him all the way to the hilt. Grog cupped the back of his partner’s (weapon’s?) head, not pushing down because that would just be rude. Craven Edge, however, pulled off just long enough to speak.

“Use me as you will, Master,” he said with a coquettish flutter of his lashes. Those crimson eyes were hypnotic, alluring, making Grog want to forget everything else. “I _hunger_ for you.”

Well, that was that. Grog pulled on the chain, dragging the being forward and putting a huge hand on the back of his head. Pale lips stretched around his huge grey cock, obscene sucking sounds filling the chamber. He started fucking the handsome youth’s mouth, which took it eagerly, never even pausing for breath.

“Oh, yeah,” Grog moaned, “that’s good, that is! You could be a fuckin’ pro!”

Except that he was a sword. That still didn’t make any sense, but Grog did his best thinking when he wasn’t balls-deep in someone’s body. Honestly it was surprising the pretty young man could keep going so long, as most people got tired way before this. Grog was a man of great girth and constitution, so blowing him to orgasm wasn’t a task for the faint of heart or weak of jaw.

There were other ways to get off when it came to women, though. Tits were always delightful, as were pussies. The slender man in front of him didn’t have either, of course, and what Scanlan had (drunkenly, vividly) described of male/male sex didn’t seem to be an option either. There had never been enough money in the world for a woman to let him in the backdoor, and Grog didn’t fancy being on the bottom.

Craven Edge’s red eyes flashed and he pulled off with an obscene pop.

“Master,” he said, voice not even slightly hoarse from the rough treatment. Slowly he stood, graceful and lithe, before moving to straddle Grog. “I said you could use me as you will, did I not? My whole being _hungers_ for you.”

“Fuck,” Grog said, boggling down at that pretty face. Ok, yeah, this was fucking hot. “You’ll let me do you up the butt?”

“Yes,” Craven Edge said with a put-upon sigh. “I’ll let you ‘do me up the butt’.”

“Awesome!” Grog said, grinning. None of his other weapons had been this fun, he could get used to this. “You got any oil or butter or... would mayonnaise work?”

“No,” the being said through gritted teeth. “It’s _fine._ I don’t need lubrication, edible or otherwise.”

“That’s good,” Grog said, looking around the room and spitting none of his possessions. “‘Cause I don’t see me magic jug anywhmmmph!”

He was cut off as Craven Edge grabbed his beard and pulled him into a kiss. It was a very nice kiss: soft lips, great use of tongue, ten out of banana (or however numbers worked). He almost didn’t notice the young man in his arms pulling the wrappings away, not until there was a bare cock pressing against the goliath’s abs.

He glanced down, expecting to be grossed out, but it actually didn’t look bad. Small, pinkish, almost cute. Although...

“I was expecting a greatsword,” Grog said. “That’s more of a dirk... or maybe a kitchen knife?”

“I _am_ a greatsword,” Craven Edge said, rolling his eyes. “And I said I was what _you_ wanted me to be, right?”

“Right,” Grog said. The Barbarian had to admit this was more appealing than a bigger cock might be, not overtly masculine enough to be a turn-off. “Sooooooo... butt stuff?”

“Yes,” Craven Edge sighed, clambering off Grog and getting to his hands and knees facing away from the barbarian. “Please, Master, I’m so _hungry_.”

The youth seemed more ‘thirsty’ to Grog, but now was hardly the time to split hairs. Instead it was time to drop the chain and take hold of those slim hips, to rub his cock up and down between pale, soft cheeks. Given the willowy youth beneath him, there was no way it could fit, right? Grog didn’t know much biology, but surely it wouldn’t be comfortable without _something_ to ease the way.

Yet Craven Edge looked like he was going to strangle Grog if he didn’t get a move on, so the goliath shrugged and started to push in.

 _Holy shit!_ Grog had been expecting tightness, but this was impossible. It was warm, slick, just right enough to make him gasp in pleasure but not enough to hurt. Even with Grog’s poor intellect, he knew this wasn’t right, there was no _way_ this could be real.

“Of course it’s not real,” Craven Edge said, looking over his shoulder with those mesmerizing ruby eyes. “It’s a dream, a sweet dream you should just enjoy.”

Oh. That made sense of everything, really... well, maybe not the fact that he was having sex with a dude that sounded like his sword, but it was the best explanation he’d gotten so far. Alright, it was the only explanation because Grog hadn’t been able to come up with of any, but it still sounded plausible. It also meant he didn’t have to think about it much: it was a dream, and dreams were weird.

So he just set about enjoying himself.

Grog started pumping his hips in hard, rough thrusts, for once not holding back. He’d always had to show care for his partners, his size and strength too great for most to handle, but this was a dream. For the first time he could really go all-out, and he wasn’t going to pass that up.

Craven Edge groaned, but this time it sounded like pleasure. He canted his hips up, rocking back to meet the Goliath’s fierce thrusts with obvious enjoyment.

“ _Yesssss_...” the sword hissed, “show me your strength, give me your power!”

“Ok,” said Grog, plunging in even harder.

Craven Edge moaned in clear approval, and ok, that was fucking _hot_. The Goliath wondered how much the little man could take... but it was a dream, right? What if he could handle _everything?_

Grog grinned, digging his fingers into that pale flesh. It was time to step up the game, see what he was really capable of.

He picked up the pace, not just ditching restraint but putting in actual effort. Each thrust was hard and rough and deep, snapping his hips forward and yanking the youth’s back. He pounded into the sword-man with wild abandon, thoroughly enjoying the choked-off sounds of pleasure from beneath him.

“Yes, my warrior!” the blade cried. “So _strong!_ Give it to me, sate my hunger!”

Grog didn’t need telling twice. He came hard, shooting his come into that tight little hole until his balls had nothing left to spill. Craven Edge took it all, not a single drop spilling down his thighs even after the Goliath pulled out.

“Truly you are fit to wield me...” the blade panted, looking over his shoulder at Grog.

“Thanks!” Grog said, then gestured at the sword-man’s dick. It might not be his thing, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. “You wanna-“

“No,” Craven Edge shook his head. “You have given me what I desire.”

“Good,” Grog said, flopping down on the black silk sheets. He felt tired, drained, even more so than usual after the act. Maybe he’d try out a real-life twink at the next whorehouse he visited...

He just hoped he’d remember the dream in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:
> 
> The collar is the “Chain of Returning”.
> 
> Grog’s mostly straight here (let’s say a 1 on the Kinsey Scale), but Craven Edge can read his mind and knows where the “mostly” ends. Makes you wonder what he looked like for Sylas Briarwood, huh?
> 
> (Now I wanna write a Sylas/CE/Delilah dream threesome... FUCK!)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos give me light in these dark times.


End file.
